Page 6 of Stilettos & Secrets on the 7 Seas

“She’s obviously gotten in good with a member of the crew to be asked aboard.” One of those men looked important, not like a deckhand or a cook, but like somebody with authority. I moved to stand in front of Marco and placed my hands on his arms.

“You think—” He paused, swallowed so hard his Adam’s apple yo-yoed like a fish bobber. “You think she’d…”

Oh, brother. Marco had it bad for this girl. I could feel the jealousy brewing. Time to calm down the blond god and get his butt back to base.

“She’s dressed as a man. I doubt she’s using her feminine wiles to woo the captain. Most likely, she offered herself up as an extra hand for whatever reason she finds it necessary to get on that ship.” What I didn’t add was it looked like she was staying through the moon cycle. It was doubtful that once they rowed out to the ship, she’d have enough time or privacy to make a jump.

I looked up the beach. A figure stood at the top of the hill. The glow of a nearby building illuminated his face. Mortas stared out at the waves, toward the ship Sasha boarded. He glanced in my direction, and a shiver skittered down my spine. Then, like a creepy magician, he disappeared into the shadows.

“We need to ask around, find out where that ship is heading.” Marco turned toward town.

“Great idea. Let’s do that on the next jump.”

Marco jogged up the beach, back the way we came. I scrambled after him, kicking sand, then running across the cobblestones like a galloping horse.

“Marco. The woods.” I panted out the words as I caught up with him. “Jump site. Moon cycle ending. Pain. No indoor plumbing.” I grabbed his coat and dug my heels in.

He dragged me along behind him, finally stopping when we got to the gypsy cart.

“Marco, we have to go home.” I stomped a demanding foot.

“I’ve got to find out where that ship is headed.”

“OK, yeah, great. Let’s jump back to our time. Do the recon. We can come back next month and figure out how to get Sasha.”

“Dat be Vane’s ship.” The gypsy spoke from her perch on the wagon.

I jumped at her creaky voice. Marco’s mouth dropped open, then clamped shut in a stubborn-as-a-jackass frown. We had forgotten about her, and she’d heard everything we’d said. Hopefully, she couldn’t make any sense of it.

“He be gatherin’ his crew, what’s left of ’em, an headin’ out ta sea.” She spat on the ground. “The way he treats his crew ’tis shameful. Vane’s the devil himself, he is.”

“Charles Vane?” Marco’s face went pale when the gypsy nodded.

He pulled me out of hearing distance.

“There must be a reason she’s with them, and next month will be too late to find out what that is. Charles Vane has a reputation as one of the most brutal pirates. If he discovers her identity, he could hurt her, or sell her, or…” His words trailed away, but his eyes pleaded for me to understand.

I turned my head, clapping my leather sole on the cracked cobblestone. “You can’t stay. The moon cycle’s almost over.”

“Jen, this may be our only chance to get her. I’m staying. Go back. Tell Agent McCoy whatever you want.”

“Marco, I can’t leave you.”

“Jennifer Cloud, you made your choice a long time ago. Now I’ve made mine. Go home. Go back to Caiyan. As soon as I find Sasha, we’ll come home, together.”

My chest felt tight, not from the impending jump, but because I didn’t want to leave him. But I couldn’t manhandle his billboard-worthy, sex-God body into my outhouse. I was tired of this smelly, sandy den of vice and vulgarity. My heart felt twisty, like a wrung-out dishrag.

It would take time for him to locate this Vane guy and figure out where they were taking Sasha. Possibly that ship would be underway before he could get aboard. He’d hang out in Nassau, find some wench to take him in and nurse him through the painful experience of staying during a closed moon cycle. Then, next full moon, he’d come home.

“Fine.” I looked up at him. “Have it your way. Stay. Suffer the pain of a moon cycle in a time where hydrocodone doesn’t exist.”

“It can’t be any worse than being shot twice or getting knocked unconscious by a flying deck chair.”

I had a feeling it would be worse, but lesser men than Marco had lived through it. I turned to leave, full of piss and fury.

“Wish me luck?” His voice wavered with nervous energy.

I whirled around, yanked him into my arms and hugged him. Not the hug of a scorned lover, but the hug of a friend.

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